I made the very bad decision to go to a play last night. I thought it would be fun and it was $6 night at the theater, but it ended up not being fun because SH couldn't go at the last minute and the friend I took instead didn't really like the play, but didn't suggest leaving at half time, although I certainly would have been willing because I was falling asleep. I would have suggested leaving but I thought she wanted to stay. She wanted to leave but thought I wanted to stay. Neither of us wanted to be rude.
That is called the Abilene Paradox, by the way. Google it. I learned about it in grad school.
I find myself surprised by how much I remember of what I learned while I was getting my MBA. One item that has always stuck with me is my management professor's statement that happier employees are not necessarily more productive than unhappy employees. There had been no research to back that up, she noted. Slaves are not happy but they can be very productive. Happy employees might spend all day goofing off and not getting anything done.
Now, that was 20 years ago, so perhaps there has been research since. Perhaps now they know that putting people in cubicles and giving them really crummy health insurance makes them unhappy but providing occasional ice cream and a subscription to People magazine for the break room is enough happiness to make up for it and make everyone happy and productive. Who knows.
Oh. So I didn't get home until almost 11. I am usually in bed by 10, what with my horrible 6 a.m. wakeup time.
SH was up, of course, and wanted to talk and asked if I would iron his shirt for a meeting he had the next day, which was not what I wanted to be doing at 11 at night, but I knew I wasn't going to fall asleep right away anyhow. Plus he had just gotten some bad news about his mom - she had fallen and broken her wrist, so he was upset about that and his inability to help. There's not much you can do over the phone when your mom has a broken wrist. So he wanted to talk about that.
I told him he owed me in a major, major way and I hauled out the ironing board.
I ironed his shirts, which took five minutes. Shirley jumped up onto the ironing board, which she does every single time it's out, which is why I cannot leave the iron to heat while I go into another room, which is why I usually throw her into the basement when I iron.
SH was grateful. He owes me big. And he had a revelation (not really - he knew this) that now that I have a job, I can't just sleep in after a late night.
(Yes, 11 p.m. counts as a late night for me.)
He has been working from home for so long that he's forgotten what it's like to be a cubicle warrior.
I want to forget, too.